by Layla Frost
Shifting to face him, I returned the genial smile and subtle smirk combination. “No, I wouldn’t want to put you in a hard spot. I’m assuming it won’t be very long so it’ll be easy enough to fit in after class.”
“Actually, this is going to take a while, and I don’t want to be responsible for you missing someone else’s class. It’s very important, though, so why don’t we go to my office now?”
Me and my big mouth.
“Fine,” I said with a fake smile as he walked to the front.
Brooks, who’d just walked in for the last of it, leaned over to ask, “What do you think he wants to talk about?”
“Probably just my paper. You know how he likes to play devil’s advocate.”
Or just be the devil.
Nodding, he started his laptop. “I think that’s why he’s such a good teacher.”
“Yeah, he’s something,” I mumbled.
Professor Caine gave the class some instruction before prodding, “Miss Wilder, if you can tear yourself away from Mr. Crosby…”
I grabbed my bag and headed toward the door.
As I passed, he lowered his voice so only I could hear. “Remember what I said about punishment?”
Shit.
The short walk to his office was silent and awkward as hell, and it took all my control not to just walk away.
Professor Caine unlocked his door and stepped aside for me to enter first before closing it behind us. Leaning against it, his posture was casual, but his position blocked the only exit.
Trapping me in.
“I talked with Professor Peters,” he started.
My shoulders slumped in relief. “So you know I withdraw the drop request. Fine. Can I go back to class?”
“He also suggested I work with you for your independent studies.”
My attitude and anxiety were both forgotten as excitement bubbled through me.
Although independent studies were done, well, independently, I’d still need an overseeing advisor to guide my work and make sure it was at the level it needed to be.
After months of being ignored, what I wanted most was being dangled like a carrot on a string.
I’d be pushed and challenged, learning from the brilliant Professor Damien Caine—something I’d have sold my soul for before.
But I knew better than to expect anything from him.
My bubbling excitement went flat as reality set in, reminding me that my life wasn’t an Oscar-bait inspirational movie, and he wasn’t Robin Williams or Edward James Olmos.
Professor Caine wouldn’t give me some epic moment of learning. He’d had plenty of chances, but had only given me the silent treatment and anxiety… and some mild indigestion.
Which was why my head was shaking before I even gave it the command to. “No, thank you.”
Huh, lookie there. I actually do have a sense of self-preservation.
Who knew?
His brows lowered, his tone stunned as he repeated, “‘No, thank you?’”
“Ceaders already offered to oversee my work.”
“Yes, Peters mentioned that. However, we’ve agreed your strength lies in the theoretical side of politics, not in the comparison.”
“Which is why I think it’s best to work with Ceaders. Strengthen one of my weaker areas,” I explained.
“So because you have proficiency in a field, that means you no longer need to learn? You don’t want to push yourself to be more than average?” he questioned, finally playing devil’s advocate.
But since it was regarding my personal choices and not my school work, I gave zero fucks about his opinion. He could bite my average ass.
I opened my mouth to tell him so, but then I saw it.
The spark in his eyes. The smirk he tried to hide.
He was goading me, wanting a reaction.
I wasn’t going to give him one.
Tamping down my ego and my temper, I gave him a bland smile. “Not at all. But that doesn’t negate the fact that staying under Ceaders’ guidance so I can strengthen a weakness is the right choice.”
He was silent for a moment before crossing his arms over his broad chest. “What an interesting way to phrase it. ‘Staying under Ceaders’ implies a lot, Miss Wilder.”
I rolled my eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“And what about your earlier implications? Was that not what you meant?”
“You started it with your implication.”
“How you inferred my innocent offer to work around a busy student’s schedule—”
“Ha! I have a hard time believing anything you do is innocent. Life is your chess board, and every move you make is controlled and manipulative.”
He grinned outright. “I’m assuming that’s supposed to be an insult, but coming from the Mistress, it’s high praise.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Using the guise of innocence to manipulate and control… Sound familiar?”
Shit.
Of course it sounded familiar, I did it every shift at Sinners.
Pot meet kettle.
“Touché. Still, I’m going to continue working with Ceaders.” Since he may have been a dick, but he was also my professor, I added, “I appreciate the offer, though.”
“No, you’ll be working with me.” He moved away from the door. “Now if I were you, I’d head back to class.”
“No.”
One dark brow arched devilishly. “Excuse me?”
“No.”
“Which part are you declining?”
“Both.” I put my hands on my hips and tried to look confident.
He was deceptively calm. “Both?”
“I’m not working with you, I’m working with Ceaders.”
“Why?”
“I’ve already made that point.” I headed for the door, but Professor Caine blocked it again.
“And now I feel like I have a point to make.”
“I think you’ve made more than enough.”
His blue eyes darkened as he stalked toward me. “It’s a very important one.”
“Which is?” My voice was breathy as I backed away until my legs hit his desk.
“How very un-short things are.”
I didn’t need the reminder. I’d felt the thick length of him when I’d given him the lap dance and again when he’d pressed me against the door. I may have hated him, but that hadn’t stopped me from revisiting those memories when I was alone. Only, in my fantasies, he was blissfully silent and eagerly accommodating.
Since the real him was a selfish asshole, he’d deserved the earlier jab and then some.
When he reached me, I looked up at him with a bored expression. “Fine.” I sighed before making my tone exaggeratedly placating. “This meeting is a very average length. The perfect length for some, I’m sure.”
With a frustrated noise—somewhere between a grunt and a growl—his mouth dropped to mine. One of his hands went to my head, his fingers weaving into my hair. His other cupped my ass cheek. The thick length of him was hard against my belly, giving me another memory to manipulate for my own private use. His tongue traced the seam of my lips, demanding entrance.
One I refused by pressing them together as I fought to keep control.
At my resistance, his hand in my hair fisted. The sharp tug made me gasp, and he took his opportunity. His tongue slid into my mouth as he deepened the kiss.
My common sense may have told me it was stupid, but my libido didn’t care. It wanted to enjoy the crackle of my hypersensitive nerves. It refused to question the surge of sizzling heat that intensified each time he tightened his hold on my hair. Or why the burst of pleasure-pain gave me a heady rush, like a high I wanted to chase, even knowing it’d end in disaster.
Giving in, at least for a moment, my hands shot out, gripping the sides of his shirt to pull him closer.
He groaned into my mouth as the kiss deepened.
It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced.
Frantic.
Rough.
Wild.
Dominating.
I knew we were approaching the metaphorical edge, but I didn’t have the self-control to step back.
But Professor Caine did.
His hands moved to grip my shoulders as he literally tore his mouth from mine with a low curse and a pained expression. As soon as I released my hold on his shirt, he took a huge step away and ran both hands through his hair. “Leave.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Now!” he thundered.
Jumping, I grabbed my bag and hauled ass as quick as I could.
Chapter Ten
* * *
Dr. Jekyll and Dickhole Hyde
Eden
“My office. Now, Eden.”
A chill ran down my spine.
He knows.
I hadn’t talked to Professor Caine since our kiss the previous Friday. He hadn’t gone to Sinners over the weekend and we’d ignored each other on Monday. My mind had been occupied with planning my next move.
Literally.
When I’d escaped from the hell that was my family, I’d intended to transfer colleges at least once. In my mind, it’d be like a movie where I was on the lam. New places. New faces. New adventures.
The thing they didn’t show was that moving was expensive and exhausting. No one in the movies even worked, yet they had fat wads of cash and the ability to bend time so they could travel long distances in a matter of hours.
Since I had neither money nor magic, I’d stuck around.
But it was time to move.
Not just because of Professor Dickhead and our… misadventures in his office, although that was a definite nudge.
It was because I was attached. I loved Boston, my school, my expanding group of friends, and even Sinners.
I was putting down roots, even if they were shallow and thin. I’d already left everything behind once. It’d hurt to sever those roots and run again.
I’d just made the decision a few days before, and I’d already changed my mind a million times. I didn’t want to leave.
Maybe moving was stupid. Unnecessary. Dramatic. Maybe I was taking the coward’s way out.
Actually, there was no maybe about that.
I was a coward.
I lived in a perpetual state of fight or flight, and my self-preservation almost always chose the latter.
Except, apparently, right then.
My self-preservation must have been on a coffee break because I snickered at Professor Caine’s order. Keeping my back to him, I finished packing up as I muttered, “Funny, I thought I was supposed to get out of your office.”
A few students lagged behind, and he wasn’t near quiet enough when he practically growled, “I’ve warned you that attitude is going to get you in trouble. I’ll say it again. My office now.”
“Quiet,” I hissed. “And no.”
“I swear to Christ, Eden, I’ll make the biggest scene you’ve ever seen. And then I’ll follow you to work tonight and make a bigger fucking one. Do you understand me?”
My jaw dropped. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.” He looked at my mouth as I pressed my lips together. “That’s what I thought. If you’re not in my office in the next five minutes, I’ll find you. Understand?”
“I got it. Sheesh.”
“That attitude,” he murmured, adding something else I couldn’t catch as he walked away.
He’d given me five minutes, and I used every damn second of it.
I stopped at the bathroom.
I got a coffee from a vending machine that whirled and shook like it was possessed.
I took a sip of said coffee…
And then I found the nearest trash can since sending it to the fiery pits of hell wasn’t an option, even though that’s where the vile sludge belonged.
I paced around an alcove, keeping a careful eye on the clock because I had no doubt he’d follow through with his threat.
When my time was up, I headed to his office. I raised my fist to knock, but before I could, the door swung open. My startled squeak turned into a full-blown yelp when Professor Caine’s long fingers wrapped around my wrist. Yanking me inside, he slammed the door and pressed me against it before it’d even stopped rattling.
His jaw was clenched, his words coming out rough. “What did I tell you?”
Hiding my nerves behind a cheeky smile, I hoped he couldn’t see how much he affected me. “You’ve gotta be a little more specific than that, you’ve told me a lot of things.”
“I’ve warned you about that attitude, Miss Wilder.” I didn’t trust the calmness in his tone and was already bracing when he continued. “If I hear it again, I’ll bend you over that desk and spank it out of you.”
I gasped. “You wouldn’t!”
That sounds horrible and demeaning…
And so hot I’m wet.
What’s wrong with me?
He quirked an eyebrow. “You seem to like to test me about everything else. Care to test me on this?” When I rolled my lips in, biting them to keep myself from mouthing off, he almost looked disappointed. “Good choice. What’d I say about trying to leave?”
Even though I totally knew because I’d relived the scene a million times, I lifted a shoulder in a half-ass shrug.
“Answer me.”
“To try it and see what happens,” I muttered, sounding like a petulant child getting a scolding.
“Then why’d I just get an email from my friend, Broderick Myer?”
He said the name like I should know it, but I was drawing a blank. “Who?”
“The head of the Poli Sci department at UM.”
“Oh.”
More like, oh shit.
“Yeah. Oh.” His brow arched again when I remained silent. “Care to explain that?”
“Not particularly.”
“Care to explain why he asked about an inquiry that came through over the weekend?”
“Not particularly,” I repeated.
“Then would you care to explain how I should answer his question of why someone who thinks the way you do wants to transfer to his small college?”
“Not particularly,” I repeated for the third time, really sticking with my evasive strategy even though it was the equivalent of fighting an inferno with a squirt gun.
“So, then why, when I warned you there’d be consequences if you tried to leave, did you decide to do exactly that?”
I put my hands on my hips so he wouldn’t see them trembling. “Because that’s my decision to make.”
“And that’s what you want? To transfer to a shitty college upstate?”
“Or someplace, yeah.”
“Did you apply elsewhere?”
“None of your business. Now back up, I’m late for class.”
Professor Caine didn’t move, except to put his palms to the door by my head. “Why does it matter? You’ll be transferring soon anyway.”
“What’s your problem? Last week you’re yelling at me to get out, but now today you won’t let me go?”
“Is that what this is about?”
“Yes! No!” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “I was already planning on moving.”
When I opened my eyes, I saw his were narrowed. “You said you weren’t going to transfer.”
“No, you said that. Now let me get to class.”
“Not until you agree to withdraw any applications.”
“What? No!”
“I’m not fucking around.”
“Well neither am I. First, you ignore me. Then you talk to me, but only to be a huge asshole. You yell at me to leave, and now you’re trying to force me to stay?” Realizing I was shouting, I lowered my voice to a fierce whisper, “Just stay the hell away from me.”
“I told you to leave so I didn’t fuck you on my damn desk!” he snarled right before his mouth was on mine.
This time, there was no coaxing when his tongue demanded entrance. His hands went into my
hair, holding me to him.
My hands went to his chest with the intention of pushing him away, but then he tugged my hair. A dull ache of pleasure-pain spread across my scalp, shooting an electrifying jolt straight to my clit as if there was an invisible string connecting the two.
I’m just a puppet, and he’s pulling the strings.
He pulled away, and I braced for him to turn from Dr. Jekyll to Dickhole Hyde. Instead, his fingers tenderly combed through my hair before he gently cupped my cheeks. “I’m not saying I’m not an asshole, but what I did was for you. I don’t give a damn about the rules—I’d fuck you bent over the Dean’s desk if I could.”
At his blunt words and the visual they conjured, I had to lock my knees to keep from literally swooning into him.
My panties could fix a California drought.
“But I do give a damn about you. About not messing with your life.” He bent and pressed a soft kiss to my collarbone. “Go to class. Tell Ceaders a meeting with me ran long.” His voice was teasing as he smiled down at me. “Very, extra above-average long.”
Despite the intensity of the previous ten minutes, a small laugh escaped me.
His eyes closed, a flash of pain marring his handsome face as he whispered, “God, I love that sound.” He opened his eyes and stepped back. “Okay, go.” His lips tipped up as he added, “Please.”
With a swimming head and tension crackling the air around us, I gave him a quick nod before turning to open the door.
My hand had just touched the knob when he called, “Eden.”
I looked at him over my shoulder but remained silent so I didn’t say something I’d regret.
Like, ‘Go fuck yourself with your own ego over the Dean’s desk.’
Or, ‘Take me on your desk now, and we’ll work our way up to the Dean’s.’
“See you tonight,” he whispered.
I gave him another jerky nod before rushing from the room.
As I went, I realized I wasn’t totally dreading seeing him at Sinners that night.
At least, not yet.
Chapter Eleven
* * *
A Jackson Pollock Porn Set
Eden
“Why do you work here?”
Damien had waited until I was done with the dance before speaking. When I met his eyes, they were… friendly.